Of Love and Nightmares
by FloraKing
Summary: Granger saves Draco in his dreams. He hates this for three reasons: 1. He hates Hermione Granger, 2. Dreams don't mean anything, and 3. She couldn't save him even if she wanted to. As the war comes to a head, Draco is forced to reconsider everything he thought he knew.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, you know the drill.

Draco had ran until every breath felt like fire in his lungs; until his legs felt like he'd been hit with a jelly-leg jinx; until his vision blurred around the edges and felt like he might pass out. The Forbidden Forest was impossibly dark. He looked around around him, squinting to get a better look but there was nothing but pitch black darkness surrounding him.

And yet a white fog rose from the forest floor. It was cold and strangely palpable. He was afraid that if it kept rising he would drown in it. He already couldn't breathe without wheezing. He was terrified of breathing so loudly; surely something, anything, _everything_ could hear him. He tried to stifle his breathing but it only served to choke him. He sputtered desperately in the darkness. Fear pulsated through every vein in his body. He knew he was not brave. He never had been. But now he knew it was be brave or die. The problem was he didn't know how to be brave.

And then a small, cold hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed his forearm. He let out the most undignified scream. He'd always hated these bloody woods and how bloody dark they could be. He yanked his arm back to him but the hand didn't let go. In fact, he pulled the person closer to him, into the light. It was Hermione Granger. Her hair was wild as a lion's mane, with bits of twigs and leaves stuck in it. There was dirt and blood streaked across her face. Her eyes were clear and focused. She was calm. He could only stare at her in awe.

"Shh," she soothed. "You don't have to be afraid."

He had nothing but questions but his mouth couldn't find any words. He wanted to know what was going on, why she was here but he couldn't.

"Granger?" His distraught whisper into the endless darkness. Then she was gone.

In her place was Goyle, his big, squishy face peering down at Draco with legitimate concern. His big sausage fingers wrapped around his friend's pale arm.

"Draco, mate, you awake now? You've been having a nightmare."

Draco frowned and snatched his arm back. He sat up, resting his back on the headboard. He hated sharing a room with these idiots, especially at times like this, when he could really use the privacy.

"And you only just thought to wake me?" he snarled, rubbing his arm where both Granger and Goyle had held him. Somehow, his mind kept tricking him into believing that he could feel that it had been her small hand instead of Goyle's big one. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Goyle looked over at Crabbe for assistance, looking as helpless as ever.

"Well, the thing is mate, we've been trying. You just weren't waking."

Draco scowled but internally he was panicking.

"Did I say anything?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

His friends shook their heads.

"Nah," Crabbe replied, "You were just wheezing and twitching. Were you being chased by a Hippogriff or something?"

Draco sent his pillow sailing toward Crabbe's head and it smacked him in the face with a satisfying thud.

"Shut up," he grumbled, yanking the covers off his legs and throwing them towards the foot of the bed. He rubbed the back of his neck vigorously as he hurried to the bathroom. He had no idea what had prompted such a horrific nightmare. He hadn't had too much tea before bed or had any chocolates. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd seen Granger at all yesterday. She'd been spending all her time keeping bloody Potter from dying in the Triwizard Tournament lately. No that he'd been paying attention, of course, but one does hear things.

He took a longer shower than usual, spending more time trying to decipher his dream than actually washing his hair. He had been so afraid- but of what? And why in the bloody name of Merlin was Granger there? He couldn't figure it out.

"Bloody dreams…" he muttered, angrily rubbing the shampoo in his hair. "They don't bloody mean anything anyway…"

Dreams don't mean anything. Unless you're a true Seer, perhaps, and even then the majority of their dreams are just an amalgamation of images, thoughts and ideas from the day before blended and strung together in whatever narrative their subconscious can make. Divination is a load of garbage anyway and none of it should be believed to be anything meaningful. Draco told himself this fact over and over again. At least once a week he dreamt of Granger saving him. The threat was always ambiguous but the terror was real. And she always saved. It was bloody stupid.

He watched her carefully crushing her beetles in Potions. She was cautious but she was confident as well. She handled the knife like it was the most natural thing in the world to her, as though she had done it a thousand times before. He looked around and no one else was as graceful as she was. They were awkward and self-conscious, visibly unsure if they were getting it right or not. But not Granger. She was so comfortable she might as well have been wearing slippers and a dressing gown. He shook this thought out of his mind.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Snape called from the front of the class. "Do you intend to actually brew a potion today or just observe?"

Malfoy pinked slightly and went back to work, modeling his own crushing technique after hers. She might be a filthy mudblood but her marks were always good. Whatever she was doing was probably the best way to do it and he wasn't about to let his resentment toward her cause him to get bad marks.

A half hour later and Snape gave him a good grade, but expressed little enthusiasm. Draco wasn't sure if he should have expected anything else but it did feel like faint praise considering the work he had produced. He packed his bag roughly and headed to lunch. He barely had time to settle in and fill his plate before his friends started begging for his attention. The bloody leeches couldn't make it ten minutes without wanting something from him.

"Have you given any thought as to who you are going to ask to the Yule Ball, Draco?" Pansy asked, her tone suggestive. She served him a healthy portion of curry. He didn't even like curry.

He shrugged. "Hadn't given it any thought, honestly."

Pansy lifted her eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Really."

Her brows lifted higher but she said nothing, her lips tightening into a thin line. Goyle leaned forward, his usual expression of confusion deepened.

"But you have to go, though," he said. "And you can't go alone. You're dad would hate that."

Crabbe nodded in agreement, taking a moment to swallow his mouthful of food.

"Yeah. We have to have dates."

Malfoy sighed and sat his fork down. They weren't going to give him a moment's peace until he engaged them.

"Then ask someone. Surely you don't expect me to find your dates for you?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked between themselves, looking hesitant.

"We have dates already," Crabbe replied at last.

Pansy slammed her fork back down on the table.

"What?" she asked harshly, her cheeks flushing. They looked at her, their faces blank. Fury flickered in her hazel eyes. "What the bloody hell did you just say, Crabbe?" His name left her lips like profanity.

"We have dates?"

"Who?" she demanded.

"I've asked Millicent Bulstrode and Goyle's asked Rachel Bickham."

Pansy's mouth fell open, a blotchy red stress rash crept up from under her uniform's collar. Draco could read her like an open book, she was a girl entirely without self-restraint. He knew exactly what kind of humiliation was running through her mind at this particular moment and it was nothing less than delicious. He suppressed a grin.

"Millicent _Bulstrode_ and Rachel _Bickham_ already have dates to the Yule Ball?" she asked incredulously. Draco grabbed his glass and took a deep drink to hide his glee at her distress.

"What? Don't you?" Goyle asked earnestly.

Draco inhaled his pumpkin juice sharply and choked. He sputtered, gulping for breath.

"Wrong pipe," he assured Pansy who looked like she wanted to strangle him to death right there and spit on his corpse.

A few moments later, Draco lifted his attention from his plate.

"Pansy, I suppose I could take you," he said, deliberately offering to take her to Yule Ball in the least thoughtful way possible. "Since no one else is going to."

Draco was sure that the worst aspect of his life was that Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to get half of his jokes. They didn't so much as snicker at his comment. But Pansy wasn't as stupid as she looked. She knew what Draco was doing. She glared him but stayed silent. She knew this was the best offer she was going to get. The worst part was that she had already ruined her chances of anyone else asking her to go because she'd already spread around the rumor that she was going with Draco. She could have ripped him a new one to ease her wounded pride but she decided against it. Her mother had taught her better than that.

A frighteningly calm smile spread across her face though her eyes were still dancing with murderous thoughts.

"Why yes, thank you, Draco, I would love to go to the Yule Ball with you," she replied sweetly.

Draco lifted his brows, giving her a curt little nod. She exhaled aggressively and turned her attention back to her food.

"I'm wearing green, obviously. Juniper. Plan accordingly."

Draco grinned and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

He looked out across the Great Hall just in time to see Viktor Krum talking to Granger by the exit. There were rumors they were dating but Draco didn't believe them. Granger would never date someone like Krum. He could barely speak English coherently and he wasn't very bright. That wasn't even taking into consideration how his curved nose was so distractingly large that you had to look at him a couple times before you could notice that his eyebrows looked exactly like oversized caterpillars. Krum leaned and whispered something into her ear. Granger looked surprised for a moment and then blushed fiercely. She nodded and Krum looked exceedingly pleased. Draco slammed his napkins down on his plate and got up.

"Crabbe, Goyle, let's go. It's time for class."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading! This is my first published fanfic in like a decade so please leave a review and let me know what you think! More to come soon!


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns everything. Even me.

Draco swore under his breath while he fumbled with his cufflinks. Usually when he dressed in formalwear, he didn't have to dress himself. House-elves usually fascinated his cufflinks and tied his bowtie. He was not amused with having to do it himself, especially when he was exhausted.

He had been plagued with another night of 'd been trapped. The forest floor had risen up, ensuring him tightly around the wrists and ankles. Granger had stepped out of the forest, practically glowing in the moonlight. She'd offered him her hand but he'd woke before he could accept it.

Draco finally managed to clasp his cufflinks and then stared down at his bow tie. Where to begin? After a moment of struggle, he heard a low chuckle.

"There's a spell for that, you know," Blaise informed him, striding over. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the base of Draco's throat. Draco stood very still, looking skeptically at his friend.

" _Ligamentum._ "

To Draco's relief, the bowtie immediately sprung to action, tying itself around his collar. It didn't even strangle him. He made an approving sound in the back of his throat.

"Impressive," he said, inspecting the spell work. "Comfortable too. That's a good spell, Blaise."

Blaise lifted his eyebrow.

"Your father didn't teach you that one?"

Draco bristled. Obviously his father hadn't and it was more hurtful than he cared to admit. Lucius wasn't around very much and when he was, he wasn't exactly spending a lot of one on one time with his son.

"You don't even have a father," Draco snapped, turning to inspect his reflection.

"Everyone has a father, you prat," Blaise responded coolly, brushing his lapel. "But mum's third husband taught me."

Draco swallowed and checked his watch. They were supposed to meet their dates in the common room in five minutes.

"Did the corsages arrive?" he asked. "I forgot to check."

Blaise pointed his wand at his bed and summoned a sizable box out from under his bed.

"Khloris the Florist owned them in a few hours ago. The one with the gold ribbon is for Daphne and the silver one is for Pansy."

Draco hummed appreciatively and took hers out of the box. It was fine enough but he couldn't muster a single actual fuck to give about it's quality. Even if it was the finest corsage in the entire world, Pansy would find some fault with it.

"Let's go then."

Out in the common room, Crabbe and Goyle were awkwardly conversing with their dates already. Draco checked his watch. It was one minute past. He rolled his eyes. Pansy was wanting to make a grand entrance. Merlin forbid she entered the common room before him. He was certain he would never understand her. She really was smarter than she let on. She had to know that he didn't really have much of an interest in her, but it didn't stop her from trying to catch his eye. He figured it had more to do with his money and status than her attraction for him and he hated her all the more for it.

Pansy entered, several feet ahead of Daphne. Her juniper dress was fitted to the knee before it fanned out, the fabric soft and lush. Her face was starting to lose some of it's baby fat, and Draco had to admit she looked very lovely. Though he wasn't attracted to her in the slightest, they were friends, of a sort. He smiled and extended his arm to her.

"You look very nice," he complimented, holding out her corsage. She smirked and extended her arm so he could slip the corsage around her wrist.

"Thank you. The flowers are exquisite."

He nodded and lead her up to the Great Hall. She chattered all the way there about having her dress custom made by a designer in Paris but he wasn't really listening. He couldn't stop thinking about how in his dream, how relieved he had been to see Granger step out of the darkness. He had wanted nothing in his life so badly as he had wanted to take her hand. It was unnerving to think about. He hadn't ever dreamed he'd be _happy_ to see Granger.

They were appropriately early to the ball, just like his mother always taught him to be. _There isn't anything fashionable about being late,_ she always said. He had to agree. There were lots of couples there already, helping themselves to refreshments while the orchestra was still tuning. He escorted Pansy to the punch table and poured them each a glass before giving her sufficient cover to spike them. They toasted to each other and then took hearty swigs.

He did his best to keep her talking, every so often asking for her opinion on Millicent Bulstrode's atrocity of a dress, or Goyle's interesting choice in loafers. The more she talked, the happier she would be and the less talking he would be expected to do. He hoped the spiked punch would pep him a bit. He really hated the idea of Bloody Granger ruining the Yule Ball for him.

"Did you see Macdougal's hair? It's the tackiest thing I've ever seen. A plait? I mean, Morgana's wrath, what does she think this is? A meeting of the clans?"

Draco grunted in agreement, though he didn't look for the girl in the crowd. It was the fifth girl Pansy had ripped to shreds in the last two minutes.

"Not a very dignified style, I suppose," he responded.

"Not at all, especially when paired with that gown. Where on Earth did she find something so ill-fitting? Thin as she is, you'd think she'd know how to dress her body better, I mean honestly, it's…." she trailed off. Draco drained his punch, certain that she had spotted some other crime against fashion.

"Is that Granger?" she asked and her tone surprised Draco. There was no hostility or disgust in her voice. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was awe. He turned slowly and sure enough it was. He almost hadn't recognized her but upon a closer look it was undoubtably her. Her usually frizzy, wild hair was sleek and soft, elegantly knotted at the base of her skull. It no longer aggressive drew the eye so that he could get a good look at her face. He'd never noticed how nice her features were. She was always so beautiful in his dreams but he had always assumed that was just a trick of the mind. But now he was confronted with the fact that it hadn't been a trick at all.

Just like in his dreams Granger had a small, elegant nose that lead to full, bow shaped lips. Her skin was as creamy white as milk and clear as a summer sky. Even from a distance he could see her intelligence blazing behind her large brown eyes.

As she descended the stairs, her periwinkle gown fluttered about her feet, catching the breeze and rippling against her svelte figure. Draco tightened his grip on his glass, his knuckles whitening. Granger knew everyone was looking at her and she smiled bashfully once she made eye contact with her date, Viktor Krum. Despite her sheepishness, she still exuded undeniable confidence. She knew who she was, and she liked it, even if she wasn't entirely at ease with the attention it wrought. She slipped her arm

It wasn't until he felt Pansy looking at him that he diverted his gaze to his empty glass.

"If she has the capacity to look like _that,_ why on Earth doesn't she always?" Pansy asked dismissively. "What a waste. Typical, though, of mudbloods. Get everything handed to them all the time so they have no desire to put forth any real effort- "

"Do want more punch?" Draco asked her quickly. He didn't know if he could hear her blather about that. It made her sound like an idiot. There wasn't anyone less entitled than Hermione Granger and even Pansy knew that. She just wanted to be cruel and Draco simply didn't have the tolerance for it at this time. He handed her another glass. The orchestra sounded their queues and the first dance was about to start. He took Pansy by the arm and hurried her over to the dance floor.

"Come, let's watch Potter crush his date's toes in front of the entire ball," he said with a smirk, hoping to divert her attention. It worked.

While the orchestra played, Pansy and Draco danced every dance. They'd been trained in all the steps since they were children and knew them by heart. He didn't like to dance, but he was competent at it. The only good part about it was that Pansy rarely bothered to talk to him while dancing. She was a mechanical dancer, focusing much too hard on the moves themselves and less on the feel of the music. He had to correct her rhythm often but she didn't seem to mind. He wondered if she even noticed.

"I bet Krum is leading her. A skilled man can do that, lead without anyone but his partner really knowing," Pansy said, looking over his shoulder at Granger. Draco couldn't help but turn her so he could get a clear view. Whatever Krum was saying, Granger was very amused by it. He could almost hear her laugh above the waltz.

"It's a waltz, Pans. The man is supposed to lead," he replied dryly. She swatted at him.

"You know what I mean."

"Perhaps on the other numbers, but anyone can waltz. Even Mudbloods. Even the poor," he said.

She exhaled irritably, glaring at him. Draco wondered if he was appearing to be soft on Granger. Usually he was just as eager for them to roast the girl as he was for them to roast Potter. He smirked.

"But I'm not interested in her dancing. I'm interested in her choice of date. You know why she's here with Krum, right?"

A spark ignited in Pansy's eyes. She lived for gossip. "Why?" she asked eagerly.

"Because Potter didn't ask her," he responded conspiratorially. "Think about it. She follows that idiot around like a puppy dog, it's sickening. She's always doing his homework for him or covering for him so he doesn't get in trouble. Hell, she practically held his hand through his Triwizard Task. But Potter didn't ask her. The moron didn't ask anyone until the very last minute, apparently, but who is Granger here with? Viktor Krum. Look at him! He's a Neanderthal. But he _is_ the second most famous person here."

Pansy face lit up with malicious glee.

"I didn't think of it like that before," she said, sounding surprised. "I can't believe I didn't see it, but you're right. She's clearly a _fame whore._ Skeeter alluded to as much in her last article."

The song ended and Pansy bowed out immediately. "I'm going to get more punch and talk to Daphne."

She didn't wait for a response before disappearing into the crowd.

The night wasn't even halfway over when the orchestra packed up, making way on the stage for the band. The student body wasn't supposed to know that the Weird Sisters were performing, but Draco's father had told him the day the school governor's had approved it. He sat at a table next to Blaise, reaching his hand out for a flask.

"I know you have an extra."

"Do you?"

"I saw you stick it in your cummerbund when we were dressing.

"You were watching me dress? You pervert."

"Give me the flask, Zambini."

"Drink yourself to hell, Malfoy," he responded playfully, handing him the extra. He covered him while he took a lengthy chug. It was fire whiskey and burned all the way down.

He slipped the flask back into this friend's cummerbund and smirked at him.

"Where's Pansy off to?"

Draco shrugged. "Off gossiping about Granger, I think."

Blaise nodded appreciatively. "I'm not surprised. I mean, damn, that bossy bitch cleaned up better than I ever would have expected."

Draco snorted in agreement. "Not bad. For a Mudblood, of course."

"Of course."

The boys sat in silence, watching their peers chat and dance and kiss.

"Pansy'll want to snog you tonight, you know. So prepare yourself."

Draco sighed. "I figured but there are worse ways to end a night."

"Yeah, you could actually have talk to her."

Draco couldn't restrain his laughter. Crabbe and Goyle were convenient companions but Draco really did enjoy his time spent with Blaise. He was smart and could keep up with Draco's wit and humor. It wasn't often he found someone up to the task. The boys drank and joked until the Weird Sister's made their grand entrance. The students lost their bloody minds. Usually Draco would have thought it beneath him to get excited, but he was drunk and him and Blaise got caught up in the excitement. They shoved their way to the front of the stage.

The concert was thrilling. He'd never been standing room for one before and frankly, it made the experience far more enjoyable. By the time the crowd started dwindling, the students pairing off, Draco was growing tired. He wanted nothing more than to slip out and go to bed. The alcohol had sustained him through the concert but he was crashing rapidly. he was unfortunate enough to catch her eye from across the Hall. She gave him a seductive grin, and he felt his stomach twist into knots. He didn't mind the actual snogging, in fact, he quite liked it. But afterwards, Pansy was always clingier than usual, following him around, irritating him for days before she eventually lost interest. He didn't want to deal with that. Not now. Not when he was so bloody exhausted. He ducked away, exiting the Hall into a small, secluded corridor. He had to squeeze past a couple of seventh years who were snogging heavily against the wall. He turned the corner just in time to hear a familiar voice. Hermione bloody Granger sounding as impatient and irritated as ever. He took a step forward and saw her at the end of the hall, standing at the top of the staircase, shouting down at who could _only_ be Potter and Weasley.

"Next time there's a ball pluck up the courage to ask me before someone else does! And not as a last resort!"

He wished with all his heart that the could see their expressions. He stayed in the shadows, approaching her, wanting to hear what their responses were. He couldn't. They were either mumbling or storming off, he couldn't be sure. Just when she moved to take a seat, Draco stepped out of the shadows. His head was swimming in Firewhiskey and he couldn't stop himself from seizing a beautiful opportunity.

"So it is true," he chided. "Famous Potter wouldn't take you to the ball so you snagged the next best thing."

Granger wheeled around to look at him, her eyes red from crying, her hair falling from it's knot. Draco immediately regretted engaging her. She looked truly devastated, her heart as exposed as a live wire on her sleeve. She rarely showed this side of herself. The last time he had seen such hurt and anger in her eyes she had punched him in the nose.

"You!" she seethed. "I should have known you were the one behind that rumor. Parkinson's gossip isn't usually so creative."

The words spat from her lips like boiling venom. He stared at her wordlessly.

"What? You don't have anything to say? Like you didn't slither up here to call me a Fame Whore or a filthy Mudblood or whatever the bloody hell else you've come up with!"

"Granger," he said calmly. "You're hysterical."

Her eyes blazed with pure, unfiltered fury, causing the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. He had meant to calm her down but he could see that it was having the opposite effect. She took a step toward him and the suit of armor rattled between them, drawing his attention. Had she done that? He wasn't sure if it was more frightening if she'd done it purpose or on accident.

"And you're a cruel, petulant, spoiled and _pathetic_ piece of festering garbage," she seethed. "See, I can state the obvious too."

Draco swallowed hard as she took another step, the suit of armor rattled even harder, the clank of the metal echoing down the corridor. He felt his adrenaline escalate, his blood pumping with nervous anticipation. She was wild eyed and furious but she was utterly captivating, a true force of nature. She was the opposite of how he'd dreamt her but it stirred something deep inside of her. He raised his hands in front of him, a half-arsed attempt at peacemaking.

"I only meant you should calm down. You're going to hurt yourself, Granger."

Her face flushed red with unrepressed anger.

"Don't patronize me!" she shrieked and the suit of armor fell between them with a deafening clatter. Draco flinched, leaping several paces back. He looked up at her in shock. She wasn't armed, how the bloody hell had she managed that? He was surprised to find that she was looking just as startled as he was. She surveyed the mess as though she couldn't quite comprehend how it had come to be and then looked up at him, as vulnerable as he had ever seen her before. Tears slid down her cheeks, dripping to the floor. Though it was impossible, he could have sworn he heard the teardrop splash on the stone floor before she picked up her skirt and hurried down the stairs, leaving Draco alone.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's a slow burn, but stay with me! Please be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think!


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